


It’s Not What It Looks Like

by Khadijalkubra



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Awkward Tension, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Quentin Coldwater, Past Quentin Coldwater/Alice Quinn, Pre-Slash, UST, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, magical mishaps, naked, sans socks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadijalkubra/pseuds/Khadijalkubra
Summary: Prompt: I’m eye-level with his junk, but it’s not what it looks like
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50
Collections: Post Apocalyptic Babes





	It’s Not What It Looks Like

**Author's Note:**

> *A book dragon sits perched upon a windowsill wrapped in a soft blanket with a sword hanging from her belt, nursing a hot cup of cocoa.* Hey folks. Still here, still queer, and still distracting myself from existential fear. Let’s do this!

“El, I’ve been trying to empty this flask but the spell keeps—” Quentin halted in the doorway. “Um?”

Of course this was his life. Of course when Quentin wanted to do something as simple as returning Eliot’s bottomless flask he’d get an eyeful of Waugh.  _ And whoa indeed. _

Walking in on Eliot in the middle of some weird shit wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t as common as people would think, but it was far from rare. Still, Quinten hadn’t been expecting to find the High King of Fillory naked, save for the wool socks on his feet, contorted vaguely upright in the middle of the room. A warding sigil of chalk and ash lay bright and pulsing at his feet. Okay yeah, it was El, Q should have anticipated. 

“Oh, thank God!” Eliot breathed out, though he made no move to full regard Q.

“Eliot, why the fuck—” Quentin stepped further into the room, just barely having the presence of mind to shut the door behind him. 

With poise but no lacking severity, Eliot huffed. “Q, I am very fond of you, but If you break this circle I will _decimate_ _you_.”

Quentin stopped in his tracks and narrowly avoided the elegant shape on the wooden floorboards. The room smelled of candle smoke and incense and…burnt toast for some reason. Clearly Eliot had been in the middle of a ritual.

“Your watchtower points are underdrawn. Did you…?” Quentin said.

“Yes, I’m well aware,” Eliot replied, the picture of tranquility. Well, as best as one could speak through a mostly frozen mouth. “Some of our less cautious housemates who haven’t yet learned to fear me set off an explosion. I may have dropped an ounce or two of energy.”

“Holy shit— are you okay?”

“I’m unharmed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why are in you Full Body Regalia #36? That’s a warding spell.” Quinten swallowed. “And you’re. Naked.”

“The nymphs of the Whimsical Woods need their lands protected.”

“Ah.”

“The spell itself paralyzes all in those parts from doing harm to those who dwell there.”

“Ahhhhh.”

“But the explosion smudged my chalk and paralyzed me instead.”

“Yeah, okay, that makes sense… And the naked thing?”

Eliot groaned. “Because doing a spell for Fillory from Earth requires more skin, apparently. Now I’m starting to cramp up over here, so can you kindly move your cute little ass and help me?”

“Right-um-okay-so uh,” Quentin carefully walked around the circle to face Eliot. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Well there’s a lot of things I  _ want _ you to do, but for now I  _ need _ you to fix the circle.”

“Won’t that just re-start the spell?”

“It shouldn’t unless I say the incantation again, which I don’t plan to. My guess is it'll just unfreeze me. I hope. So don’t fuck it up.”

“Right. Not super encouraging, but I’ll do my best. Okay, where’s your chalk?”

“I dropped it somewhere near the bed.”

Quentin looked around for the chalk and found it half hidden under the bed skirt. Of course Eliot would have a bed skirt, the neat freak. Quentin got on his knees just straddling the outer circle, placed his hand on the safe part of the floor for balance, and carefully leaned forward to where the casting smudges were. It felt like a weird game of twister, and he was acutely aware that he was eye-level with Eliot’s junk.  _ Kinda glad he’s frozen right now _ . The flirtatious magician would no doubt try to turn this into something lewd. Which would probably lead to things that Quentin was  _ not _ ready to face yet.

It had only been a few weeks since the whole incident with Eliot’s exorcism and saving the world...again. And the two  _ still _ hadn’t talked about, well, them. Peaches...plums...To be honest, Quentin head actively been avoiding being alone with Eliot just to avoid talking. Because yes, when it came to his own feelings, even when he was fully aware of them, he was still scared shitless. It was complicated and messy ( _ like everything about me and my life)  _ and he also wasn’t less in love with Alice either, so  _ that _ was also an element in the fucked up equation and just—too much. 

Besides. Didn’t exactly go great the first time he’d brought up the possibility of them being...yeah. So, fuck no.

Unfortunately the botched casting hadn’t frozen Eliot’s voice also.

“You know,” said Eliot from above. Quentin could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “If circumstances were better, this would be quite the fun little position.”

Quentin looked up, exasperated and definitely not blushing. “Probably not a good idea to piss off the person tryna help you fix a fucked up circle that’s got you frozen.”

“ _ Fiiine _ ,” said Eliot. “Although you clearly could stand to blow off some steam. Maybe blow something else too.”

_ Ignore him, ignore him _ .

“In all seriousness,” Eliot’s voice softened, vulnerable. Quentin looked up again. “If that’s what you wanted I’d be…far from opposed”

“Eliot I–We–” Quentined sighed. “Let's worry about getting you unstuck first, yeah?”

He turned to the floor, unable to face that soft vulnerability on Eliot’s handsome face.

Not yet. At least, not in this situation.

After a pause, Elliot said from above, “Call me an optimist, but that wasn’t exactly a no.”

Quentin smiled to himself. He was just about done cleaning up the smudged lines when, because the universe hated him, he heard a knock and then someone came through the door.

“What the fuck?!”

_ Of course I forgot to fucking lock it. _ Quentin looked up past the frozen figure before him and saw Alice, of all people standing in the open doorway, eyes wide and mouth agape at the scene before her.  _ Universe why is it ME you love to fuck around with? _ Quentin realized from her vantage point just how explicitly precarious this scene must look to her. Quentin on his knees in front of a mostly naked—and really, socks somehow made it worse—Eliot.

“I-It’s _ really _ not what this looks like.”

Alice didn’t wait to hear him explain. She just shook her head, eyes stormy, and marched away. Quentin groaned, chalked up the last rune. He sat back on his haunches out of reach as the casting circle, now clean and un-smeared, flashed blue and set Eliot free. He stumbled all lithe limbs out of the circle and shook the blood flow back into his body. 

Once Eliot was settled into his skin again, he took a seat next to Quentin. The anxious magician could tell that his friend/crush/lover in a different timeline wanted to smirk or say something snarky or something to dig at him. But mercifully, he did not.

What he did do however was peck Quentin on the cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> KK: So apparently there is not NEARLY enough fanfic for The Magician’s fandom.   
> We plan to rectify that.


End file.
